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CROOKEN SANDS 


BY 

BRAM STOKER 





NEW-YORK 

THEO. L. DE VINNE & CO. 

MDCCCLXXXXIV 


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CROOKEN SANDS 

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NEW-YORK 

THEO. L. DE VINNE & CO. 


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Copyright, 1894, by Bram Stoker 


All rights reserved 



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CROOKEN SANDS 


Mr. Arthur Fernlee Markaji, who took what 
was known as the Red House above the Mains of 
Crooken, was a London merchant, and, being essen- 
tially a cockney, thought it necessary when he went 
for the summer holidays to Scotland to provide an en- 
tire rig-out as a Highland chieftain, as manifested in 
chromolithographs and on the music-hall stage. He 
had once seen in the Empire the Great Prance — The 
Bounder King — bring down the house by appearing 
as The MacSlogan of that Ilk,’^ and singing the cele- 
brated Scotch song, There ^s naethin^ like haggis to 
mak a mon dry ! ” and he had ever since preserved in 
his mind a faithful image of the picturesque and war- 
like appearance which he presented. Indeed, if the 
true inwardness of Mr. Markam’s mind on the subject 
of his selection of Aberdeenshire as a summer resort 
were known, it would be found that in the foreground 
of the holiday locality which his fancy painted stalked 
the many-hued figure of the MacSlogan of that Ilk. 

However, be this as it may, a very kind fortune — 
certainly so far as external beauty was concerned — « 
L led him to the choice of Crooken Bay. It is a lovely 
spot, between Aberdeen and Peterhead, just under the 
rock-bound headland whence the long, dangerous reefs 


2 


CROOKEN SANDS 


known as The Spurs run out into the North Sea. Be- 
tween this and the Mains of Crooken” — a village 
sheltered by the northern cliffs — lies the deep bay, 
backed with a multitude of bent-grown dunes where 
the rabbits are to be found in thousands. Thus at 
either end of the bay is a rocky promontory, and when 
the dawn or the sunset falls on the rocks of red syen- 
ite the effect is very lovely. The bay itself is floored 
with level sand, and the tide runs far out, leaving a 
smooth waste of hard sand, on which are dotted here 
and there the stake-nets and bag-nets of the salmon- 
fishers. At one end of the bay there is a little group 
or cluster of rocks whose heads are raised something 
above high water, except when in rough weather the 
waves come over them green. At low tide they are ex- 
posed down to the sand level ; and here is perhaps the 
only little bit of dangerous sand on this part of the east- 
ern coast. Between the rocks, which are apart about 
some fifty feet, is a small quicksand, which, like the 
Goodwins, is dangerous only with the incoming tide. 
It extends outward till it is lost in the sea, and in- 
ward till it fades away in the hard sand of the upper 
beach. On the slope of the hill which rises beyond 
the dunes, midway between The Spurs and the Port 
of Crooken, is the Red House. It rises from the midst 
of a clump of fir-trees which protect it on three sides, 
leaving the whole sea-front open. A trim, old-fash- 
ioned garden stretches down to the roadway, on cross- 
ing which a grassy path, which can be used for light 
vehicles, threads a way to the shore, winding amongst, 
the sand-hills. 


I 


CROOKEN SANDS 


3 


When the Markam family arrived at the Red House 
after their thirty-six hours of pitching on the Aberdeen 
steamer Ban Righ from Blackwall, with the subse- 
quent train to Yellon and drive of a dozen miles, they 
all agreed that they had never seen a more delightful 
spot. The general satisfaction was more marked as 
at that very time none of the family were for several 
reasons inclined to find favorable anything or any 
place over the Scottish border. Though the family 
was a large one, the prosperity of the business allowed 
them all sorts of personal luxuries, amongst which 
was a wide latitude in the way of dress. The fre- 
quency of the Markam girls^ new frocks was a source 
of envy to their bosom friends, and of joy to themselves. 

Arthur Fernlee Markam had not taken his family 
into his confidence regarding his new costume. He 
was not quite certain that he should be free from ridi- 
cule, or at least from sarcasm ; and as he was sensitive 
on the subject he thought it better to be actually in 
the suitable environment before he allowed the full 
splendor to burst on them. He had taken some pains 
to insure the completeness of the Highland costume. 
For the purpose he had paid many visits to The 
Scotch All-Wool Tartan Clothing Mart,^^ which had 
been lately established in Copthall-court by the Messrs. 
MacCallum More and Roderick MacDhu. He had 
anxious consultations with the head of the firm — 
MacCallum as he called himself, resenting any such 
additions as “ Mr.” or Esquire.” The known stock 
of buckles, buttons, straps, brooches, and ornaments 
of all kinds were examined in critical detail j and at 


4 


CEOOKEN SANDS 


last an eagle's feather of sufficiently magnificent pro- 
portions was discovered, and the equipment was com- 
plete. It was only when he saw the finished costume, 
with the vivid hues of the tartan seemingly modified 
into comparative sobriety by the multitude of silver 
fittings, the cairngorm brooches, the philibeg, dirk, 
and sporran that he was fully and absolutely satisfied 
with his choice. At first he had thought of the Royal 
Stuart dress tartan, but abandoned it on the Mac- 
Callum pointing out that if he should happen to be in 
the neighborhood of Balmoral it might lead to com- 
plications. The MacCallum, who, by the way, spoke 
with a remarkable cockney accent, suggested other 
plaids in turn ; but now that the other question of ac- 
curacy had been raised, Mr. Markam foresaw difficul- 
ties if he should by chance find himself in the locality 
of the clan whose colors he had usurped. The MacCal- 
lum at last undertook to have, at Markam’s expense, 
a special pattern woven which would not be ex- 
actly the same as any existing tartan, though partak- 
ing of the characteristics of many. It Was based on 
the Royal Stuart, but contained suggestions as to sim- 
plicity of pattern from the Macalister and Ogilvie 
clans, and as to neutrality of color from the clans of 
Buchanan, Macbeth, Chief of Macintosh and Macleod. 
When the specimen had been shown to Markam he 
had feared somewhat lest it should strike the eye of 
his domestic circle as gaudy j but as Roderick Mac- 
Dhu fell into perfect ecstasies over its beauty he did 
not make any objection to the completion of the piece. 
He thought, and wisely, that if a genuine Scotchman 


CROOKEN SANDS 


5 


like MacDhu liked it, it must be right — especially as 
the junior partner was a man very much of his own 
build and appearance. When the MacCallum was re- 
ceiving his check — which, by the' way, was a pretty 
stiff one — he remarked : 

I We taken the liberty of having some more of the 
stuff woven in case you or any of your friends should 
want it.’^ Markam was gratified, and told him that 
he should be only too happy if the beautiful stuff 
which they had originated between them should be- 
come a favorite, as he had no doubt it would in time. 
He might make and sell as much as he would. 

Markam tried the dress on in his office one even- 
ing after the clerks had all gone home. He was pleased, 
though a little frightened, at the result. The Mac- 
Oallum had done his work thoroughly, and there was 
nothing omitted that could add to the martial dignity 
of the wearer. 

shall not, of course, take the claymore and the 
pistols with me on ordinary occasions,” said Markam 
to himseK as he began to undress. He determined 
that he would wear the dress for the first time on land- 
ing in Scotland ; and accordingly on the morning when 
the Ban Bigh was hanging off the Girdle Ness light- 
house, waiting for the tide to enter the port of Aber- 
deen, he emerged from his cabin in all the gaudy 
splendor of his new costume. The first comment he 
heard was from one of his own sons, who did not rec- 
ognize him at first. 

Here ^s a guy ! Great Scott ! It W the governor ! ” 
And the boy fled forthwith and tried to bury his laugh- 


6 


CROOKEN SANDS 


ter under a cushion in the saloon. Markam was a 
good sailor, and had not suffered from the pitching of 
the boat, so that his naturally rubicund face was even 
more rosy by the conscious blush which suffused his 
cheeks when he had found himself at once the cynosure 
of all eyes. He could have wished that he had not been 
so bold, for he knew from the cold that there was a 
big bare spot under one side of his jauntily worn 
Glengarry cap. However, he faced the group of 
strangers boldly. He was not, outwardly, upset even 
when some of their comments reached his ears. 

He ^s off his bloomin’ chump,” said a cockney in a 
suit of exaggerated plaid. 

“ There ’s flies on him,” said a tall, thin Yankee, 
pale with sea-sickness, who was on his way to take up 
his residence for a time as close as he could get to the 
gates of Balmoral. 

Happy thought ! Let us fill our mulls j now ’s the 
chance ! ” said a young Oxford man on his way home 
to Inverness. But presently Mr. Markam heard the 
voice of his eldest daughter. 

Where is he ? Where is he ? ” and she came tear- 
ing along the deck with her hat blowing behind her. 
Her face showed signs of agitation, for her mother 
had just been telling her of her father’s condition j 
but when she saw him she instantly burst into laugh- 
ter so violent that it ended in a fit of hysterics. Some- 
thing of the same kind happened with each of the 
other children. When they had all had their turn 
Mr. Markam went to his cabin, and sent his wife’s 
maid to tell each member of the family that he wanted 


CROOKEN SANDS 


7 


to see them at once. They all made their appearance, 
suppressing their feelings as well as they could. He 
said to them very quietly : 

My dears, don’t I provide you all with ample 
allowances ? ” 

“ Yes, father ! ” they all answered gravely, “ no one 
could be more generous ! ” 

Don’t I let you dress as you please ? ” 

Yes, father ! ” — this a little sheepishly. 

Then, my dears, don’t you think it would be nicer 
and kinder of you not to try and make me feel un- 
comfortable, even if I do assume a dress which is 
ridiculous in your eyes, though quite common enough 
in the country where we are about to sojourn ? ” There 
was no answer except that which appeared in their 
hanging heads. He was a good father and they all 
knew it. He was quite satisfied and went on : 

There, now, run away and enjoy yourselves ! We 
sha’n’t have another word about it.” Then he went on 
deck again, and stood bravely the fire of ridicule which 
he recognized around him, though nothing more was 
said within his hearing. 

The astonishment and amusement which his get-up 
occasioned on the Ban Righ were, however, nothing to 
those which it created in Aberdeen. The boys and 
loafers, and women with babies, who waited at the 
landing-shed, followed en masse as the Markam party 
took their way to the railway station ; even the porters 
with their old-fashioned knots and their new-fashioned 
barrows, who await the traveler at the foot of the 
gang-plank, followed in wondering delight. Fortun- 


8 


CROOKEN SANDS 


ately, the Peterhead train was just about to start, so 
that the martyrdom was not unnecessarily prolonged. 
In the carriage the glorious Highland costume was 
unseen, and as there were but few persons at the sta- 
tion at Yellon, all went well there. When, however, 
the carriage drew near the Mains of Crooken, and the 
fisher-folk had run to their doors to see who it was 
that was passing, the excitement exceeded all bonnds. 
The children with one impulse waved their hats 
and ran shouting behind the carriage j the men for- 
sook their nets and their baiting and followed; the 
women clutched their babies and followed also. The 
horses were tired after their long journey to Yellon 
and back, and the hill was steep, so that there was 
ample time for the crowd to gather and even to pass 
on ahead. Mrs. Markam and the elder girls would 
have liked to make some protest, or to do something 
to relieve their feelings of chagrin at the ridicule which 
they saw on all faces ; but there was a look of fixed 
determination on the face of the seeming Highlander 
which awed them a little, and they were silent. It 
might have been that the eagle’s feather, even when 
rising above the bald head — the cairn gorm brooch even 
on the fat shoulder, and the claymore, dirk, and pistols, 
even when belted round the extensive paunch and pro- 
truding from the stocking on the sturdy calf, fulfilled 
their existence as symbols of martial and terrifying 
import ! When the party arrived at the gate of the 
Red House there awaited them a crowd of Crooken 
inhabitants, hatless and respectfnlly silent; the re- 
mainder of the population was painfully toiling up 


CROOKEN SANDS 


9 


the hill. The silence was broken by only one sound, 
that of a man with a deep voice. 

Man ! but he ^s forgotten the pipes ! ” 

The servants had arrived some days before, and all 
things were in readiness. In the glow consequent on 
a good lunch after a hard journey all the disagree- 
ables of travel and all the chagrin consequent on the 
adoption of the obnoxious costume were forgotten. 

That afternoon Markam, still clad in full array, 
walked through the Mains of Crooken. He was all 
alone, for, strange to say, his wife and both daughters 
had sick headaches, and were, as he was told, lying 
down to rest after the fatigues of the journey. His 
eldest son, who claimed to be a young man, had gone 
out by himself to explore the surroundings of the 
place, and one of the boys could not be found. The 
other boy, on being told that his father had sent for 
him to come for a walk, had managed — by accident, 
of course — to fall into a water-butt, and had to be 
dried and rigged out afresh. His clothes not having 
been as yet unpacked, this was of course impossible 
without delay. 

Mr. Markam was not quite satisfied with his walk. 
He could not meet any of his neighbors. It was not 
that there were not enough people about, for every 
house and cottage seemed to be full j but the people 
when in the open were either in their doorways some 
distance behind him, or on the roadway a long dis- 
tance in front. As he passed he could see the tops of 
heads and the whites of eyes in the windows or round 
the corners of doors. The only interview which he 


10 


CROOKEN SANDS 


had was anything but a pleasant one. This was with 
an odd sort of old man who was hardly ever heard to 
speak except to join in the Amens” in the meeting- 
house. His sole occupation seemed to be to wait at 
the window of the post-office from eight o’clock in 
the morning till the arrival of the mail at one, when 
he carried the letter-bag to a neighboring baronial 
castle. The remainder of his day was spent on a seat 
in a drafty part of the port, where the offal of the 
fish, the refuse of the bait, and the house rubbish were 
thrown, and where the ducks were accustomed to hold 
high revel. When Saft Tammie beheld him coming 
he raised his eyes, which were generally fixed on the 
nothing which lay on the roadway opposite his seat, 
and, seeming dazzled as if by a burst of sunshine, 
rubbed them and shaded them with his hand. Then 
he started up, and raised his hand aloft in a denunci- 
atory manner as he spoke : 

^^Wanity of vanities, saith the preacher. All is 
vanity.’ Mon, be warned in time ! ‘ Behold the lilies 
of the field, they toil not, neither do they spin, yet 
Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of 
these.’ Mon ! mon ! Thy vanity is as the quicksand 
which swallows up all which comes within its circle. 
Beware vanity ! Beware the quicksand, which yaw- 
neth for thee, and which will swallow thee up ! See 
thyself ! Learn thine own vanity ! Meet thyself face 
to face, and then in that moment thou shalt learn the 
fatal force of thy vanity. Learn it, know it, and re- 
pent ere the quicksand swallow thee ! ” Then without 
another word he went back to his seat, and sat there 
immovable and expressionless as before. 


CROOKEN SANDS 


11 


Markam could not but feel a little ujjset by this 
tirade. Only that it was spoken by a seeming mad- 
man, he would have put it down to some eccentric ex- 
hibition of Scottish humor or impudence; but the 
gravity of the message — for it seemed nothing else 
— made such a reading impossible. He was, how- 
ever, determined not to give in to ridicule, and al- 
though he had not as yet seen anything in Scotland 
to remind him even of a kilt, he determined to wear 
his Highland dress. When he returned home, in less 
than half an hour, he found that every member of the 
family was, despite the headaches, out taking a walk. 
He took the opportunity afforded by their absence 
to lock himself in his dressing-room, took off the 
Highland dress, and, putting on a suit of flannels, lit 
a cigar and had a snooze. He was awakened by the 
noise of the family coming in, and at once donning 
his dress made his appearance in the drawing-room 
for tea. He did not go out again that afternoon ; but 
after dinner he put on his dress again — he had of 
course dressed for dinner as usual — and went by him- 
self for a walk on the seashore. He had by this time 
come to the conclusion that he would get by degrees 
accustomed to the Highland dress before making it 
his ordinary wear. The moon was up, and he easily 
followed the path through the sand-hills, and shortly 
struck the shore. The tide was out, and the beach Arm 
as a rock, so he strolled southward to nearly the end 
of the bay. Here he was attracted by two isolated 
rocks some little way out from the edge of the dunes, 
so he strolled toward them. When he reached the 
nearest one he climbed it, and sitting there, elevated 


12 


CROOKEN SANDS 


some fifteen or twenty feet over the waste of sand, en- 
joyed the lovely, peaceful prospect. The moon was 
rising behind the headland of Pennyfold, and its light 
was just touching the top of the furthermost rock of 
The Spurs, some three quarters of a mile out ; the rest 
of the rocks were in dark shadow. As the moon rose 
over the headland, the rocks of The Spurs and then 
the beach by degrees, became fiooded with light. 

For a good while Mr. Markam sat and looked at 
the rising moon, and the growing area of light which 
followed its rise. Then he turned and faced eastward, 
and sat with his chin in his hand looking seaward, 
reveling in the peace and beauty and freedom of 
the scene. The roar of London — the darkness and 
the strife and weariness of London life — seemed to 
have passed quite away, and he lived at the moment 
a freer and higher life. He looked at the glistening 
water as it stole its way over the fiat waste of sand, 
coming closer and closer insensibly — the tide had 
turned. Presently he heard a distant shouting along 
the beach very far off. 

The fishermen calling to each other,’^ he said to him- 
self, and looked around. As he did so he got a horri- 
ble shock, for though just then a cloud sailed across 
the moon he saw, in spite of the sudden darkness 
around him, his own image. For an instant, on the 
top of the opposite rock, he could see the bald back of 
the head and the Glengarry cap with the immense 
eaglets feather. As he staggered back his foot slipped, 
and he began to slide down toward the sand between 
the two rocks. He took no concern as to falling, for 


CROOKEN SANDS 


13 


the sand was really only a few feet below him, and 
his mind was occupied with the figure or simulacrum 
of himself, which had already disappeared. As the 
easiest way of reaching terra firma he prepared to 
jump the remainder of the distance. All this had 
taken but a second ; but the brain works quickly, and 
even as he gathered himself for the spring he saw the 
sand below him lying so marbly level shake and 
shiver in an odd way. A sudden fear overcame him j 
his knees failed, and instead of jumping he slid mis- 
erably down the rock, scratching his bare legs as he 
went. His feet touched the sand — went through it 
like water — and he was down below his knees before 
he realized that he was in a quicksand. Wildly he 
grasped at the rock to keep himself from sinking deep- 
er, and fortunately there was a jutting spur or edge 
which he was able to grasp instinctively. To this he 
clung in grim desperation. He tried to shout, but his 
breath would not come, till after a great effort his 
voice rang out. Again he shouted, and it seemed as 
if the sound of his own voice gave him new courage, 
for he was able to hold on to the rock for a longer 
time than he thought possible — though he held on 
only in blind desperation. He was, however, begin- 
ning to find his grasp weakening, when, joy of joys ! 
his shout was answered by a rough voice from just 
above him. 

Grod be thankit, I ^m nae too late ! ” and a fisher- 
man with great thigh-boots came hurriedly climbing 
over the rock. In an instant he recognized the grav- 
ity of the danger, and with a cheering Hand fast, 


14 


CROOKEN SANDS 


mou ! I ’m comin^ ! ” scrambled down till he found a 
firm foot-hold. Then, with one strong hand holding 
the rock above, he leaned down, and, catching Mar- 
kam’s wrist, called out to him, Haud to me, mon ! 
Hand to me wi^ your ither hond ! ” 

Then he lent his great strength, and with a steady, 
sturdy pull dragged him out of the hungry quicksand 
and placed him safe upon the rock. Hardly giving 
him time to draw breath, he pulled and pushed him — 
never letting him go for an instant — over the rock 
on to the firm sand beyond it; and finally deposited 
him, stiU shaking from the magnitude of his danger, 
high up on the beach. Then he began to speak : 

“ Mon ! but I was just in time. If I had no laucht 
at yon foolish lads, and begun to rin at the first, you ’d 
a bin sinkin’ doon to the bowels o^ the airth be the 
noo! Wully Beagrie thocht you was a ghaist, and 
Tom McPhail swore ye was only like a goblin on a 
puddick-steel ! ‘Na!^ said I. ^Yon ^s but the daft 
Englishman — the loony that has escapit frae the wax- 
warks.^ I was thinkin’ that bein’ strange and silly — 
if not a whole-made feel — ye ’d no ken the ways o’ the 
quicksan’. I shouted till warn ye, and then ran to 
drag ye aff, if need be. But God be thank it, be ye 
feel or only half-daft wi’ yer vanity, that I was no that 
late ! ” And he reverently lifted his cap as he spoke. 

Mr. Markam was deeply touched and thankful for 
his escape from a horrible death ; but the sting of the 
charge of vanity thus made once more against him 
came through his humility. He was about to reply 
angrily, when suddenly a great awe fell upon him as 


CEOOKEN SANDS 


15 


he remembered the warning words of the half -crazy 
letter-carrier: ‘^Meet thyself face to face, and repent 
ere the quicksand shall swallow thee ! 

Here, too, he remembered the image of himself that 
he had seen, and the sudden danger from the deadly 
quicksand that had followed. He was silent a full 
minute, and then said : 

My good fellow, I owe you my life ! ” 

The answer came with reverence from the hardy 
fisherman : Na ! na ! Ye owe that to God ; but, as 
for me, I ^m only too glad till be the humble instru- 
ment o^ His mercy.” 

Bat you will let me thank you,” said Mr. Markam, 
taking both the great hands of his deliverer in his, and 
holding them tight. “ My heart is too full as yet, and 
my nerves are too much shaken to let me say much ; 
but, believe me, I am very, very grateful ! ” It was 
quite evident that the poor old fellow was deeply 
touched, for the tears were running down his cheeks 
The fisherman said, with a rough but true courtesy : 

Ay, sir ! .thank me an ye will — if it ’ll do yer poor 
heart good. An’ I ’m thinkin’ that if it were me I ’d 
like to be thankful, too. But, sir, as for me I need no 
thanks. I am glad, so I am ! ” 

That Arthur Fern lee Markam was really thankful 
and grateful was shown practically later on. Within 
a week’s time there sailed into Port Crooken the finest 
fishing-smack that had ever been seen in the harbour 
of Peterhead. She was fully found with sails and 
gear of all kinds, and with nets of the best. Her mas- 
ter and men went away by the coach, after having 


16 


CEOOKEN SANDS 


left with the salmon-fisher^s wife the papers which 
made her over to him. 

As Mr. Markam and the salmon-fisher walked together 
along the shore the former asked his companion not 
to mention the fact that he had been in such imminent 
danger, for that it would only distress his dear wife 
and children. He said that he would warn them all 
of the quicksand, and for that purpose he, then and 
there, asked questions about it till he felt that his in- 
formation on the subject was complete. Before they 
parted he asked his companion if he had happened to 
see a second figure, dressed like himself, on the other 
rock as he had approached to succor him. 

Na ! na ! ” came the answer, there is nae sic an- 
other feel in these pairts. Nor has there been since 
the time o’ Jamie Fleeman — him that was feel to the 
Laird o’ Udney. Why, mon ! sic a heathenish dress 
as ye have on till ye has nae been seen in these pairts 
within the memory o’ mon. An I ’m thinkin’ that sic 
a dress never was for sittin’ on the cauld rock, as ye 
done beyont. Mon ! but do ye no fear the rheuma- 
tism or the lumbagy wi’ fioppin’ doon on to the cauld 
stanes wi’ yer bare flesh ! I was thinkin’ that it was 
daft ye waur when I see ye the mornin’ doon be the port, 
but it ’s feel or eediot ye maun be for the like o’ that ! ” 

Mr. Markam did not care to argue the point, and 
as they were now close to his own home he asked the 
salmon-fisher to have a glass of whisky — which he 
did — and they parted for the night. He took good 
care to warn all his family of the quicksand, telling 
them that he had himself been in some danger from it. 


CROOKEN SANDS 


17 


All that night he never slept. He heard the hours 
strike one after the other j but try how he would he 
could not get to sleep. Over and over again he went 
through the horrible episode of the quicksand, from 
the time that Saft Tammie had broken his habitual 
silence to preach to him of the sin of vanity and to 
warn him. The question kept ever arising in his 
mind — Am I then so vain as to be in the ranks of 
the foolish ? ” and the answer ever came in the words 
of the crazy prophet : Vanity of vanities! All is 
vanity.^ Meet thyself face to face, and repent ere the 
quicksand shall swallow thee ! ” Somehow a feeling 
of doom began to shape itself in his mind that he 
would yet perish in that same quicksand, for there he 
had already met himself face to face. 

In the gray of the morning he dozed off, but it was 
evident that he continued the subject in his dreams, 
for he was fully awakened by his wife, who said : 

Do sleep quietly ! That blessed Highland suit has 
got on your brain. DonT talk in your sleep, if you can 
help it ! ” He was somehow conscious of a glad feel- 
ing, as if some terrible weight had been lifted from him, 
but he did not know any cause for it. He asked his 
wife what he had said in his sleep, and she answered : 

You said it often enough, goodness knows, for one 
to remember it — ^ Not face to face ! I saw the eagle 
plume over the bald head! There is hope yet! Not 
face to face ! ^ Go to sleep ! Do ! And then he did 
go to sleep, for he seemed to realize that the prophecy 
of the crazy man had not been fulfilled. He had not 
met himself face to face — as yet, at all events. 


18 


CROOKEN SANDS 


He was awakened early by a maid who came to tell 
him that there was a fisherman at the door who wanted 
to see him. He dressed himself as quickly as he could 
— for he was not yet expert with the Highland dress — 
and hurried down, not wishing to keep the salmon- 
fisher waiting. He was surprised, and not altogether 
pleased, to find that his visitor was none other than 
Saft Tammie, who at once opened fire on him : 

I maun gang awa^ t’ the post ; but I thocht that I 
would waste an hour on ye, and ca’ roond just to see 
if ye waur still that fou wi’ vanity as on the nicht gane 
by. An’ I see that ye ’ve no learned the lesson. W eel ! 
the time is cornin’, sure eneucht ! However, I have all 
the time i’ the marnins to my ain sel’, so I ’ll aye look 
roond just till see how ye gang yer ain gait to the 
quicksan’, and then to the de’il ! I ’m aff till ma wark 
the noo ! ” And he went straightway, leaving Mr. 
Markam considerably vexed, for the maids within 
earshot were vainly trying to conceal their giggles. 
He had fairly made up his mind to wear on that day 
ordinary clothes, but the visit of Saft Tammie reversed 
his decision. He would show them all that he was 
not a coward, and he would go on as he had begun — 
come what might. When he came to breakfast in 
full martial panoply, the children, one and all, held 
down their heads, and the backs of their necks became 
very red indeed. As, however, none of them laughed 
— except Titus, the youngest boy, who was seized 
with a fit of hysterical choking and was promptly ban- 
ished from the room — he could not reprove them, 
but began to break his egg with a sternly determined 


CROOKEN SANDS 


19 


air. It was unfortunate that as his wife was handing 
him a cup of tea one of the buttons of his sleeve caught 
in the lace of her morning wrapper, with the result 
that the hot tea was spilt over his bare knees. Not 
unnaturally, he made use of a swear word, whereupon 
his wife, somewhat nettled, spoke out : 

Well, Arthur, if you will make such an idiot of 
yourself with that ridiculous costume what else can 
you expect? You are not accustomed to it — and you 
never will be ! ” In answer he began an indi gnant speech 
with : “ Madam ! but he got no further, for now that 
the subject was broached, Mrs. Markam intended to 
have her say out. It was not a pleasant say, and, 
truth to tell, it was not said in a pleasant manner. 
A wife^s manner seldom is pleasant when she under- 
takes to tell what she considers “ truths ” to her hus- 
band. The result was that Arthur Fernlee Markam 
undertook, then and there, that during his stay in 
Scotland he would wear no other costume than the 
one which she abused. Womanlike his wife had the 
last word — given in this case with tears : 

‘Wery well, Arthur] Of course you will do as you 
choose. Make me as ridiculous as you can, and spoil the 
poor girls^ chances in life. Young men donT seem to 
care, as a general rule, for an idiot father-in-law ! But 
I warn you that your vanity will some day get a rude 
shock — if indeed you are not before then in an asylum, 
or dead ! 

It was manifest after a few days that Mr. Markam 
would have to take the major part of his outdoor ex- 
ercise by himself. The girls now and again took a 


20 


CROOKEN SANDS 


walk with him, chiefly in the early morning or late at 
night, or on a wet day when there would be no one 
about j they professed to be willing to go at all times, 
but somehow something always used to occur to pre- 
vent it. The boys could never be found at all on such 
occasions, and as to Mrs. Markam, she sternly refused 
to go out with him on auy consideration so long as he 
should continue to make a fool of himself. On the 
Sunday he dressed himself in his habitual broadcloth, 
for he rightly felt that church was not a place for 
angry feelings ; but on Monday morning he resumed 
his Highland garb. By this time he would have given 
a good deal if he had never thought of the dress, but 
his British obstinacy was strong, and he would not 
give in. Saf t Tammie called at his house every morn- 
ing, and, not being able to see him nor to have any 
message taken to him, used to call back in the after- 
noon, when the letter-bag had been delivered, and watch 
for his going out. On such occasions he never failed 
to warn him against his vanity in the same words 
which he had used at the first. Before many days were 
over Mr. Markam had come to look upon him as little 
short of a scourge. 

By the time the week was out the enforced partial 
solitude, the constant chagrin, and the never-ending 
brooding which was thus engendered, began to make 
Mr. Markam quite ill. He was too proud to take any 
of his family into his confidence, since they had in his 
view treated him very badly. Then he did not sleep 
well at night, and when he did sleep he had constantly 
bad dreams. Merely to assure himself that his pluck 


CROOKEN SANDS 


21 


was not failing Mm he made it a practice to visit the 
quicksand at least once every day j he hardly ever 
failed to go there the last thing at night. It was per- 
haps this habit that wrought the quicksand with its 
terrible experience so perpetually into his dreams. 
More and more vivid these became, till on waking at 
times he could hardly realize that he had not been ac- 
tually in the flesh to visit the fatal spot. He some- 
times thought that he might have been walking in his 
sleep. 

One night his dream was so vivid that when he 
awoke he could not believe that it had been only a 
dream. He shut his eyes again and again, but each 
time the vision, if it was a vision, or the reality, if it 
was a reality, would rise before him. The moon was 
shiuing full and yellow over the quicksand as he ap- 
proached it ; he could see the expanse of light shaken 
and disturbed, and full of black shadows, as the liquid 
sand quivered and trembled, and wrinkled and eddied, 
as was its wont between its pauses of marble calm. 
As he drew close to it another figure came toward it 
from the opposite side with equal footsteps. He saw 
that it was his own figure, his very self, and in silent 
terror, compelled by what force he knew not, he ad- 
vanced — charmed as the bird is by the snake, mes- 
merized or hypnotized — to meet this other self. As 
he felt the yielding sand closing over him he awoke in 
the agony of death, trembling with fear, and, strange 
to say, with the siUy man’s prophecy seeming to sound 
in his ears: ^ Vanity of vanities ! All is vanity ! ’ See 
thyself and repent ere the quicksand swallow thee ! ” 


22 


CROOKEN SANDS 


So convinced was he that this was no dream that he 
arose, early as it was, and, dressing himself without 
disturbing his wife, took his way to the shore. His 
heart fell when he came across a series of footsteps 
on the sands, which he at once recognized as his own. 
There was the same wide heel, the same square toe ; 
he had no doubt now that he had actually been there, 
and half horrified, and half in a state of dreamy stu- 
por, he followed the footsteps, and found them lost 
in the edge of the yielding quicksand. This gave him 
a terrible shock, for there were no return steps marked 
on the sand, and he felt that there was some dread 
mystery which he could not penetrate, and the pene- 
tration of which would, he feared, undo him. 

In this state of affairs he took two wrong courses. 
Firstly, he kept his trouble to himself, and, as none of 
his family had any clue to it, every innocent word or 
expression which they used supplied fuel to the con- 
suming fire of his imagination. Secondly, he began 
to read books professing to bear upon the mysteries 
of dreaming and of mental phenomena generally, with 
the result that every wild imagining of every crank or 
half-crazy philosopher became a living germ of unrest 
in the fertilizing soil of his disordered brain. Thus 
negatively and positively all things began to work to 
a common end. Not the least of his disturbing causes 
was Saft Tammie, who had now become at certain 
times of the day a fixture at his gate. After a while, 
being interested in the previous state of this indi- 
vidual, he made inquiries regarding his past with the 
following result. 


CROOKEN SANDS 


23 


Saft Tammie was popularly believed to be the son 
of a laird in one of the counties round the Firth of 
Forth. He had been partially educated for the min- 
istry, but for some cause which no one ever knew 
threw up his prospects suddenly, and, going to Peter- 
head in its days of whaling prosperity, had there taken 
service on a whaler. Here off and on he had remained 
for some years, getting gradually more and more si- 
lent in his habits, till finally his shipmates protested 
against so taciturn a mate, and he had found service 
among the fishing-smacks of the northern fieet. He 
had worked for many years at the fishing with always 
the reputation of being “ a wee bit daft,” till at length 
he had gradually settled down at Crooken, where the 
laird, doubtless knowing something of his family his- 
tory, had given him a job which practically made him 
a pensioner. The minister who gave the information 
finished thus : 

“ It is a very strange thing, but the man seems to 
have some odd kind of gift. Whether it be that ^ sec- 
ond sight’ which we Scotch people are so prone to be- 
lieve in, or some other occult form of knowledge, I 
know not, but nothing of a disastrous tendency ever 
occurs in this place but the men with whom he lives 
are able to quote after the event some saying of his 
which certainly appears to have foretold it. He gets 
uneasy or excited — wakes up in fact — when death 
is in the air ! ” 

This did not in any way tend to lessen Mr. Mar- 
kam’s concern, but on the contrary seemed to impress 
the prophecy more deeply on his mind. Of all the 


24 


CKOOKEN SANDS 


books which he had read on his new subject of study 
none interested him so much as a German one, “ Die 
Doppelganger/’ by Dr. Heinrich von Aschenberg, for- 
merly of Bonn. Here he learned for the first time of 
cases where men had led a double existence — each 
nature being quite apart from the other — the body 
being always a reality with one spirit, and a simu- 
lacrum with the other. Needless to say that Mr. 
Markam realized this theory as exactly suiting his 
own case. The glimpse which he had of his own back 
the night of his escape from the quicksand — his own 
footmarks disappearing into the quicksand with no 
return steps visible — the prophecy of Saft Tammie 
about his meeting himself and perishing in the quick- 
sand — all lent aid to the conviction that he was in 
his own person an instance of the doppelganger. Be- 
ing then conscious of a double life he took steps to 
prove its existence to his own satisfaction. To this 
end on one night before going to bed he wrote his 
name in chalk on the soles of his shoes. That night 
he dreamed of the quicksand, and of his visiting it — 
dreamed so vividly that on waking in the gray of the 
dawn he could not believe that he had not been there. 
Arising, without disturbing his wife, he sought his 
shoes. 

The chalk signatures were undisturbed ! He dressed 
himself and stole out softly. This time the tide was 
in, so he crossed the dunes and struck the shore on 
the further side of the quicksand. There, oh, horror 
of horrors ! he saw his own footprints dying into the 
abyss ! 


CROOKEN SANDS 


25 


He went home a desperately sad man. It seemed 
incredible that he, an elderly commercial man, who 
had passed a long and uneventful life in the pursuit of 
business in the midst of roaring, practical London, 
should thus find himself enmeshed in mystery and 
horror, and that he should discover that he had two 
existences. He could not speak of his trouble even to 
his own wife, for well he knew that she would at once 
require the fullest particulars of that other life — the 
one which she did not know ; and that she would at 
the start not only imagine but charge him with all 
manner of infidelities on the head of it. And so his 
brooding grew deeper and deeper still. One evening 
— the tide then going out and the moon being at the 
full — he was sitting waiting for dinner when the 
maid announced that Saft Tammie was making a dis- 
turbance outside because he would not be let in to see 
him. He was very indignant, but did not like the 
maid to think that he had any fear on the subject, and 
so told her to bring him in. Tammie entered, walk- 
ing more briskly than ever, with his head up and a look 
of vigorous decision in the eyes that were so generally 
cast dowD. As soon as he entered he said : 

I have come to see ye once again — once again ; 
and there ye sit, still just like a cockatoo on a pairch. 
Weel, mon, I forgie ye! Mind ye that, I forgie ye!” 
And without a word more he turned and walked out 
of the house, leaving the master in speechless indig- 
nation. 

After dinner he determined to pay another visit to 
the quicksand — he would not allow even to himself 


26 


CEOOKEN SANDS 


that he was afraid to go. And so, about nine o'clock, 
in full array, he marched to the beach, and passing 
over the sands sat on the skirt of the nearer rock. 
The full moon was behind him, and its light lit up the 
bay so that its fringe of foam, the dark outline of the 
headland, and the stakes of the salmon-nets, were all 
emphasized. In the brilliant yellow glow the lights in 
the windows of Port Crooken, and in those of the dis- 
tant castle of the laird, trembled like stars through the 
sky. For a long time he sat and drank in the beauty 
of the scene, and his soul seemed to feel a peace that 
it had not known for many days. All the pettiness 
and annoyance and silly fears of the past weeks seemed 
blotted out, and a new and holy calm took the vacant 
place. In this sweet and solemn mood he reviewed 
his late action calmly, and felt ashamed of himself for 
his vanity and for the obstinacy which had followed 
it. And then and there he made up his mind that the 
present would be the last time he would wear the cos- 
tume which had so estranged him from those whom 
he loved, and which had caused him so many hours 
and days of chagrin, vexation, and pain. 

But almost as soon as he arrived at this conclusion 
another voice seemed to speak within him, and mock- 
ingly to ask him if he should ever get the chance to 
wear the suit again — that it was too late — he had 
chosen his course and must now abide the issue. 

It is not too late," came the quick answer of his 
better self ; and, full of the thought, he rose up to go 
home and divest himself, right away, of the now hated 
costume. He paused for one look at the beautiful 


CROOKEN SANDS 


27 


scene. The light lay pale and mellow, softening every 
outline of rock and tree and housetop, and deepening 
the shadows into velvety black, and lighting, as with 
a pale flame, the incoming tide, that now crept fringe- 
like across the flat waste of sand. Then he left the 
rock and stepped out for the shore. 

But as he did so a frightful spasm of horror shook 
him, and, for an instant, the blood rushing to his head 
shut out all the light of the full moon. Once more he 
saw that fatal image of himself moving beyond the 
quicksand from the opposite rock to the shore. The 
shock was all the greater for the contrast with the 
spell of peace which he had just enjoyed; and, almost 
paralyzed in every sense, he stood and watched the 
fatal vision and the wrinkly, crawling quicksand that 
seemed to writhe and yearn for something that lay be- 
tween. There could be no mistake this time, for 
though the moon behind threw the face into shadow 
he could see there the same shaven cheeks as his own, 
and the small stubbly mustache of a few weeks’ 
growth. The light shone on the brilliant tartan, and 
on the eagle’s plume. Even the bald space at one side 
of the Glengarry cap glistened, as did the cairngorm 
brooch on the shoulder and the tops of the silver but- 
tons. As he looked he felt his feet slightly sinking, 
for he was still near the edge of the belt of quicksand, 
and he stepped back. As he did so the other figure 
stepped forward, so that the space between them was 
preserved. So the two stood facing each other, as 
though in some weird fascination ; and in the rushing 
of the blood through his brain Markam seemed to hear 


28 


CROOKEN SANDS 


the words of the prophecy : “ See thyself face to face^ 
and repent ere the quicksand swallow thee/’ He did 
stand face to face with himself, he had repented j 
and now he was sinking in the quicksand — the warn- 
ing and prophecy were coming true ! 

Above him the seagulls screamed, circling round the 
fringe of the incoming tide, and the sound being en- 
tirely mortal recalled him to himself. On the instant 
he stepped back a few quick steps, for as yet only his 
feet were merged in the soft sand. As he did so the 
other figure stepped forward, and coming within the 
deadly grip of the quicksand began to sink. It seemed 
to Markam that he was looking at himseK going down 
to his doom, and on the instant the anguish of his 
soul found vent in a terrible cry. There was at the 
same instant a terrible ciy from the other figure, and 
as Markam threw up his hands the figure did the same. 
With horror-struck eyes he saw him sink deeper into 
the quicksand ; and then impelled by what power he 
knew not, he advanced again toward the sand to meet 
his fate. But as his more forward foot began to sink 
he heard again theories of the seagulls, which seemed 
to restore his benumbed faculties. With a mighty 
effort he drew his foot out of the sand which seemed 
to clutch it, leaving his shoe behind, and then in sheer 
terror he turned and ran from the place, never stop- 
ping till his breath and strength failed him, and he 
sank half swooning on the grassy path through the 
sandhills. 

Arthur Markam made up his mind not to tell his 


CROOKEN SANDS 


29 


family of his terrible adventure — until at least such 
time as he should be complete master of himself. 
Now that the fatal double — his other self — had been 
engulfed in the quicksand he felt something like his 
old peace of mind. 

That night he slept soundly and did not dream at all; 
and in the morning was quite his old self. It really 
seemed as though his newer and lower self had dis- 
appeared for ever ; and strangely enough Saf t Tammie 
was absent from his post that morning and never ap- 
peared there again, but sat in his old place watching 
nothing, as of old, with lack-luster eye. In accordance 
with his resolution Markam did not wear his Highland 
suit again, but one evening tied it up in a bundle, — 
claymore, dirk, and philibeg and all, — and bringing 
it secretly with him threw it into the quicksand. 
With a feeling of intense pleasure he saw it sucked 
below the sand, which closed above it into marble 
smoothness. Then he went home and announced 
cheerily to his family assembled for evening prayers. 

Well! my dears, you will be glad to hear that I 
have abandoned my idea of wearing the Highland 
dress. I see now what a vain old fool I was, and 
how ridiculous I made myself 1 You shall never see 
it again ! ^ 

Where is it, father ? ” asked one of the girls, wish- 
ing to say something so that such a self-sacrificing an- 
nouncement as her father^s should not be passed in 
absolute silence. His answer was so sweetly given 
that the girl rose from her seat and came and kissed 
him. It was : 


30 


CROOKEN SANDS 


^‘Iii the quicksand, my dear ! and I hope that my 
lower self is buried there along with it — for ever/ 

The remainder of the summer was passed at Crooken 
with delight by all the family, and on his return to 
town Mr. Markam had almost forgotten the whole of 
the incident of the quicksand, and all touching on it, 
when one day he got a letter from the MacCallnm 
More which caused him much thought, though he said 
nothing of it to his family, and left it, for certain 
reasons, unanswered. It ran as follows : 

The MacCallum More & Roderick MacDhu. 

The Scotch All-Wool Tartan Clothing Mart, 
Copthall Court, E. C., 

30th September, 1892. 

Dear Sir : I trust you will pardon the liberty which I take 
in writing to you, but I am desirous of making an inquiry, and I 
am informed that you have been sojourning during the summer 
in Aberdeenshire, Scotland (N. B.). My partner, Mr. Roderick 
MacDhu, — as he appears, for business reasons, on our bill-heads 
and in our advertisements, his real name being Emmanuel 
Moses Marks, of London, — went early last month to Scotland 
(N. B.) for a tour,' but as I have only once heard from him, 
shortly after his departure, I am anxious lest any misfortune 
may have befallen him. As I have been unable to obtain any 
news of him on making all inquiries in my power, I venture 
to appeal to you. His letter was written in deep dejection 
of spirit, and mentioned that he feared a judgment had come 
upon him for wishing to appear as a Scotchman on Scottish soil, 
as he had one moonlight night, shortly after his arrival, seen his 
‘ wraith.^ He evidently alluded to the fact that before his de- 
parture he had procured for himself a Highland costume simi- 
lar to that which we had the honor to supply to you, with which, 
as perhaps you will remember, he was much struck. He may, 


CROOKEN SANDS 


31 


however, never have worn it, as he was, to my own knowledge, 
diffident about putting it on, and even went so far as to tell me 
that he would at first only venture to wear it late at night or very 
early in the morning, and then only in remote places, until such 
time as he should get accustomed to it. Unfortunately he did 
not advise me of his route, so that I am in complete ignorance 
of his whereabouts ; and I venture to ask if you may have seen 
or heard of a HighlancLcostume similar to your own having 
been seen anywhere in the neighborhood in which I am told 
you have recently purchased the estate which you temporarily 
occupied. I shall not expect an answer to this letter unless you 
can give me some information regarding my friend and partner, 
so pray do not trouble yourself to reply unless there be cause. 
I am encouraged to think that he may have been in your neigh- 
borhood as, though his letter is not dated, the envelop is marked 
with the postmark of Yellon, which I find is in Aberdeenshire, 
and not far from the Mains of Crooken. 

I have the honor to be, dear Sir, 

Yours very respectfully, 

' . Joshua Sheeny Cohen Benjamin. 

' (The MacCallum More.) 




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